


stay in my arms if you dare

by witchertrashbag (intothegarbagechute)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Porn Star Geralt of Rivia, au where geralt has a monster dong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/pseuds/witchertrashbag
Summary: Gerry Riviera, aka the “silent giant” of porn, meets upstart camboy Jaskier, thanks to his ex/producing partner Yennefer, and the chemistry is electric. Behind the scenes, Yen falls hard for Jaskier and, for the first time in her life, finds she isn’t sure how to make a move.Based onthis tumblr post!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 138
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is as slow-burn as I will ever get, this is endgame Yennskier + Geralt, with lots and lots of Geraskier in between. I hope you like it! s/o especially to the wonderful SWer who reached out and gave this a beta/sensitivity read!
> 
> Please check the chapter notes for content warnings I have **not** tagged, because you can never tell what chapter anything's in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** this chapter includes a Geralt/Lambert tryst with depictions of (rough) oral sex, anal sex, and cum shots.

“Ready for the caverns?” Lambert asked, arms crossed. The rain at the mouth of the cave beat down upon them in a thin drizzle, just enough to lightly coat their faces, hair, clothes, everything in a light and thoroughly unpleasant wetness.

“Almost,” came Geralt’s grunted reply. “Before we go inside—“

“Ugh, drink a dose of Cat, I know—“

“No.”

“Then what? You gonna give me some more words of wisdom?”

“You’re gonna slide something else down that pretty throat of yours.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Lambert said, his eyes going dark with desire. “Am I?”

“If you’re good and take off your armor, you will.” 

Lambert smirked and slowly began removing his armor, piece by piece, canting his hips, tilting his head to the side to ask, “Like this?”

“Hmm,” was the only response Geralt gave as he watched, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips as Lambert dropped piece after piece at his feet. When he was naked, Geralt untied his codpiece and released his cock.

Lambert sank to his knees at the sight of all eleven inches, fully erect, his eyes wide with wonder. 

Lambert licked and sucked greedily, moaning as he struggled to fit Geralt’s length down his throat, his hand working the base of this monster. He made quite a vision, his bare ass pressed out in the rain, exposed for Geralt, his other hand playing with his own hard cock.

“That all you got?” Geralt asked with a smirk. He waited for a small whimper before grabbing Lambert’s hair and pulling, thrusting himself all the way down the man’s throat. Lambert choked and moaned wantonly on the length, but Geralt held him until Lambert’s hand quietly tapped at his inner thigh. He released him.

Lambert smirked easily at him, wiping his mouth. “Why don’t you find out?” he asked. 

Within minutes, Lambert was on his hands and knees, spreading his cheeks apart for Geralt, his ass lubed and ready. The rain beat down harder, and he began to beg.

“Please, please, give it to me. Fuck— fuck me, godsdamnit!”

Geralt just smirked as he slowly, slowly pressed his cock into Lambert, eliciting a long, filthy moan from the younger man. He knew it was a lot to take, and he took his time giving it. 

“ _Fuck_ — I can take it—“ Lambert whined, glancing back at Geralt with a smirk.

Geralt clapped a hand on his hip and growled, “I’ll tell you what you can take, you little shit.” He snapped his hips, quickly thrusting the rest of his considerable length into Lambert, who made the most delicious little choked-out sounds.

Lambert, for his part, mewled and moaned, letting out little begging “ _oh fuck_ ”s and “ _just like that_ ”s, and one “ _oh fuck you’ll ruin me_ ” as he bounced his ass back against Geralt’s cock.

Geralt smacked his ass, his pace quickening, then reached around to glide his hand along Lambert’s cock.

“And I’ll ruin that filthy little mouth when I’m done,” he spat.

Lambert came, hard, in the cold rain, arching his back against Geralt and moaning the most depraved sounds and curses. Geralt remained impassive, thrusting hard through it all, abusing Lambert’s ass.

Before Lambert could catch his breath, Geralt pulled out, grabbed Lambert’s shoulder, and Lambert found himself kneeling again as Geralt took his own cock in hand. It was all Lambert could do to keep his eyes and mouth open for him.

They made quite a scene, Yennefer observed, hidden behind a tree and under an umbrella. She watched as Geralt’s gaze suddenly met hers. As he refocused and stroked himself off, releasing in hot shoots of cum across Lambert’s face and chest. Utterly stoic. The silent giant. She watched Lambert smirk and lick the cum into his mouth. 

“Ready to explore another cave?” Lambert asked with a smirk.

“CUT!” Triss Merigold yelled from beside her. “That was great, guys, great money shot! We got it.” Triss called to the duo as two PAs ran towards them with umbrellas and blankets. “Circle take, that’s a wrap for today.”

Yennefer walked toward Geralt with her umbrella. He was chugging a huge bottle of water as Lambert got to his feet and tugged on a thick robe as a makeup artist wiped the cum off his face.

“You were wonderful, darling,” Yennefer told Lambert with a smile she intended to be warm and friendly but unfortunately came out patronizing. She never did get the hang of smiles. “You’re going to be a star— in very high demand, I can tell.” She turned to go.

Geralt fell in stride with Yennefer.

“You say that to all of them.”

“Because it’s true— you make them all into stars. One tumble with the silent giant…”

“I hate that nickname.”

“So make some noise.”

“I thought that would spoil the mystique of the character,” he said, his eyes twinkling, as he hopped onto the back of a waiting golf cart. She sat beside him. “Why did we have to shoot all the way out here, anyway?”

“It’s medieval fantasy Poland, Geralt.”

“Ughhh. Who the fuck writes this shit?”

Yennefer handed him a thermos of tea, then waved to Triss.

“Maybe this will warm you up, since new guy left you so cold.” 

Geralt scowled at her, but drank the tea gratefully, hissing a little as his tongue hit the hot liquid. Yennefer hid her amusement at the soft, ridiculous man she had once known so intimately, at the part of him his fans on pornhub would never know, and never care to know. 

“Listen, before you wrap, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Yen, no. I’m so exhausted, I’m about to pass out—“

“Darling, it’ll take five minutes.”

“We have talked about this. Please don’t call me that anymore, it makes me—“

“Uncomfortable, I know. This isn’t personal, this is business. Or did you want to go back to running this entire little company and producing and doing social and finding new talent all on your own again?”

The PA stopped the golf cart at Geralt’s trailer and he hopped out.

“Yen, tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow,” he said, then turned and opened the door.

He found a tall, broad brunet in the door to his trailer, with light-blue eyes fixed on him, and a curious, appraising look in his eyes— something quietly challenging, mischievous. Not desperate to prove, but playful. 

Something about him looked haughty yet yielding. Soft and strong at once. And he was wearing the most unfortunate and ridiculously patterened buttoned shirt, unbuttoned most of the way to his navel, displaying his prominent chest hair.

He was quite unlike anyone Yennefer had ever asked Geralt to meet, and she knew it. She could tell from her perch on the golf cart that Geralt was stunned by this man smiling down at him, his full lips curling into a smug grin.

They both glanced at Yen, who was smiling broadly.

“Why don’t you tell Jaskier, then,” she told Geralt.

“Tell me what?” Jaskier asked, still grinning. A grin that somehow already knew entirely too much.

Geralt just stood there, speechless for a moment.

“I thought you said he talked,” said Jaskier, suddenly concerned. ****

“Oh, he’ll talk,” Yennefer said with a wry smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick pop back in time to how Yennefer and Jaskier "met."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** this chapter includes Yennefer watching Jaskier cam and includes depictions of: male masturbation, riding a dildo, mild humiliation, cumming untouched, and some iffy consent-- please check the end notes for elaboration on that last one.

Jaskier pursed his lips in the mirror, gave his hair a final tousle, winked at himself, then slapped himself across the face. His eyeliner was flawless. He was ready.

His routine complete, he slipped into the bedroom he’d prepared for the session, his camera and screen already set up, mood lighting perfect. It looked like a vaguely medieval den of iniquity, and he was here to play the rake desperate to be used.

He’d done this dozens bordering on a few hundred times in the last few years and had grown a small but modest little following so he knew he was good at it. Knew what he was good at, what his patrons wanted from him. Why should this private session be any different?

Still, he dithered for a moment over exactly how many buttons to unbutton before he decided less is more and let his nipples threaten to peek out a little. He glanced at the screen. He already looked debauched and used, though he was squeaky-clean and hadn’t really had human contact for about a week. The dissonance (and neediness) turned something in him, and suddenly a popup announced the arrival of his next patron. No image, but that was typical. With a click, he let them in.

He lounged back on the bed and looked at the camera through his lashes.

“Oh, hello.”

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came across his speakers. That was much less typical. Not against his own preference, but unusual for his patrons. 

“Do you actually bring any skill to the table or do you normally just lay there?” the voice demanded, and Jaskier found himself grinning at the challenge.

“Jaskier is happy to show you his skills. But how shall I address you? My lady?”

“Sure. Yeah. Whatever.”

Jaskier bristled slightly at the disinterest but did his best to cover as he slithered toward the edge of the bed and sat up, allowing his legs to fall open and reveal the outline of his cock through his tight, thin pants. He slowly began working his hands along his chest, wishing he’d left a few more buttons to unbutton, then teased at his nipples, choking out a soft moan.

“Having trouble without being able to see me?” the voice asked, harsh as ever.

“No, my lady. But I wish I could taste you,” Jaskier said, slipping a thumb into his mouth and sucking while looking directly at the camera, making sure she could see his tongue work. He let out a little needy whine to punctuate his desire, then shifted back onto the bed, as though she were sitting on his face.

He heard a long, unmistakably exasperated sigh across the line. This time he did little to cover his irritation and sat up quickly before an idea flashed in his mind.

“I think you’re enjoying this,” he told her, whoever she was. “Telling me off,” he added, wiggling and enjoying the sensation of his body on the sheets. He unbuckled his belt and started undoing his trousers. “I think I know just what you’d like to see next,” he said, sliding his trousers off his hips, and winked.

“Do most of your patrons log on to watch you wriggle like a fully-clothed worm?”

The wink was definitely a miscalculation, he thought. This one was really getting under his skin, but he was nothing if not competitive, and he would show her a good time. He would hear her cum, he decided.

“No,” he told her. “Most of them log on to watch me fuck myself. To imagine they’re doing it.”

Silence on the line. He held up a little silver (dollar-store) tray displaying four very different dildos for her perusal.

Still nothing. He quirked an eyebrow, disappointed, and chose the midnight black and white one of a solid length and girth, with a lovely curve. Not the biggest one, but not the smallest. He set the tray aside and suctioned it to the wall directly ahead of the camera.

“This is a terrible setup— how am I supposed to watch?”

With a smirk, Jaskier clicked on a second camera he had set on the wall, above the dildo, right about at a person’s eye-level. He was a professional, after all.

He knew his face only looked more mischievous as he began to wiggle fully out of his trousers.

“No,” the voice said. “Keep them on. And what’s left of that ridiculous shirt.”

Jaskier grinned, then looked down as he slowly pulled his underwear down over his hips, exposing his cock. He knew he had a good-looking dick: flushed and curved and thick, and already quite hard from this woman’s audible displeasure. He looked up through his lashes at her and gave it a few slow strokes, letting a few soft sounds fall out of his mouth as he did, letting his mouth fall open, and letting his tongue work its way across his lip as though he was concentrating very hard.

“Your voice is so…” he said, gasping a little as he stroked. “ _Abrasive._ ”

He looked at the camera, hoping that landed, challenging this unseen woman all the same.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Something in his stomach fluttered and his hand jerked on its own, and he found himself on his knees, ass up to the camera, showing her just how ready he was, letting the little sparkly pink plug in his ass catch the light. He slowly pulled it out and held his cheeks apart.

“Fine, okay.”

Jaskier let out a very real whimper then, felt his cock twitch between his thighs, then moved up the bed and turned back to face the camera, lining his ass up with the dildo stuck to the wall. 

“I think you like it,” he said, then arched his back and shifted his hips to slowly, slowly press the cock into him in one long, smooth movement. He looked back and up at the camera behind him. “I think you’d like to fuck me like this.”

He choked back a moan and began working in earnest, mindful of how debauched he looked as he writhed on the cock for the main camera.

“Harder,” she told him, her voice cold and monotonous.

“Yes, my lady.”

He obeyed and found himself very quickly pushed to the edge— she was so withdrawn, he had no idea if this was working for her.

“Don’t stop.”

Maybe he was imagining it, hoping for it, but he felt something needy break through the ice. And he was so close, so fucking close. He was pretty sure she could bring him off with her voice alone if she wanted to. He twisted to look back at the camera behind him, desperate to connect with her, suddenly very much wishing that whoever she was, she was there with him.

“ _Please,_ I’m— my lady, can I—“

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he heard, possibly imagining the steel in her voice wavering a little, trembling a little. “Are you going to cum?”

It was all he could do to turn and nod desperately at the camera as he kept up the relentless pace against the dildo.

“Then do it.”

He twisted slightly and, without expecting to, came hard, no thought in his mind but the pleasure coursing through him, surging within him, and gave himself over to it, heedless of anything else in the world but that voice.

When he finally slumped over, he found himself chest-first in his own cum and quickly remembered himself, long enough to look up at the camera as he came off the dildo with a loud, wet sound. He sat up, not remembering the last time he was so debauched, so satisfied, on camera or with a lover of his own choosing.

Then he heard her cluck her tongue.

“So soon.”

He looked at the clock and realized only fifteen minutes of their hour had passed. He found himself suddenly flushed and embarrassed at how quickly he’d cum. 

“My lady, I— there’s much more I can offer you.”

“No,” she said. “That’s enough.”

“But are you satisf—“

And he heard the sound of her side disconnecting. He took a deep breath and laid back on his side, wrecked and processing what the fuck had just happened.

A few minutes later he received an email from an assistant at The Riviera, Gerry Riviera’s production company, expressing their interest in his work and asking if he’d like to audition for a part in the porn star’s next film.

He cancelled the rest of his bookings.

It was a weird fucking day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so this chapter is uncomfortable, yes? If she's using this as an audition, Yennefer has crossed a trust boundary with Jaskier! He's not, and we're not, clear on her intentions just yet, but this confusion is the intentional beginning of their relationship that will develop over the course of this fic.
> 
> These questions will come up, probably in the next chapter! We will get POV with Yennefer, so we'll understand more of where she's coming from! But if this made you nope out, I get it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The basic chemistry meeting between Jaskier and Geralt does not go as planned. For Yennefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** WARNING THERE IS NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER!!! ABSOLUTELY NO SMUT!

“Geralt: this is Jaskier. Jaskier: Gerry Riviera, known off-screen as Geralt.”

Geralt stood at the door to his trailer, looking between Jaskier and Yennefer, and sighed deeply. “Can I at least shower and get changed first?” Geralt asked, gripping his robe.

“I quite enjoy this look. What is it, medieval leather daddy?” Jaskier asked, his hand on the hip of his very short shorts, making his ridiculously patterned— was that actual glitter? no— shirt gape open even more to expose his profoundly thick chest hair.

Yennefer inhaled deeply and resisted pinching the bridge of her nose. As soon as she’d seen him on their chat, something in her intuitively knew this would work, but now, with the harsh light of day shining on this absurd little man and his idiotic attire, she had a creeping feeling this was a terrible idea. At least he clearly hadn’t connected the encounter with the email from their company, or realized yet that she’d been on the other side of that call. For the best.

“Fine. Wait inside while I shower,” Geralt offered. “The sooner we start, the sooner it’s done, the sooner I can sleep.”

Jaskier moved to let them inside, and moments later Yennefer scooted onto the trailer’s rather uncomfortable built-in couch, the stiffness of which had no effect on the lounging sprawl Jaskier assumed. Geralt quickly grabbed a change of clothes and slipped into the trailer’s lavatory. They heard the tiny shower run.

She and Geralt had done dozens of meetings like this, to see if there was good chemistry between Geralt and a potential co-star, and it was easy to slip into the rhythm of it without thinking about the musky scent wafting off the man beside her who was seriously channeling the energy of a guest at a Roman orgy.

“Don’t mind me!” she told them. “Pretend I’m not even here. This is just to see if you two get along enough to fuck each other.”

“Is she always this incredibly crass and unprofessional?” Jaskier asked, an eyebrow arched toward the lavatory door.

A grunt came from within— one of Geralt’s amused ones, Yen noted. She also noted that the comment unexpectedly stung.

“So you— want to be an adult film performer?” Geralt grumbled through the thin door.

“Well, I have a wee following of my own. Some regular _patrons_ —“

“Subscribers,” Yen supplied, furrowing her brow at the odd shapes his little red lips made as he talked, at the way he looked at her like she was a kind of puzzle.

“I prefer to see them as patron to the carnal arts, my lady _._ ”

Yennefer blinked, rattled. Perhaps it was a phrase he used often.

“But yes, they subscribe. Well enough to’ve kept me quite comfortable, I must say. And although I don’t watch much of your work, Geralt, I am a fan of you, of what you’ve built here, how you’ve made yourself autonomous. Times being what they are… when the email came, I can’t say I wasn’t intrigued by making a change.”

“So that’s a yes,” Geralt said, opening the door and stepping out as he tugged a worn t-shirt down to meet his brown corduroys. He rubbed at his long, white hair with a towel.

Yen noted with a smirk how Jaskier’s eyes dilated a little and his mouth dropped open, just for a second.

Geralt always got that reaction when he dropped trou— he wasn’t the silent giant for nothing—, but clothed, one realized he was a thick, rough-looking man with a scarred, angular face and limbs, but a chunky torso and thighs. Not exactly the picture of beefcake heaven. In Yen’s experience, not everyone was drawn to him when his pants were on. She was pleased to see Jaskier very much was. The attraction between them was clearly there, the chemistry so far was great. Somehow, this was going better than expected.

Jaskier recovered quickly and languidly moved over to make space; Geralt settled beside him.

“Yeah, sure: you could distill it down to a simple yes. But I thought we were getting to know each other?” Jaskier asked, and suddenly seemed much closer to Geralt, although he hadn’t moved at all, and wasn’t actually touching him.

These trailers were always so stuffy, Yennefer remembered as she sucked in a breath, especially on rainy days.

Geralt chuckled. “You always let your mouth run like this?”

“When it’s otherwise unoccupied.”

Yennefer coughed to cover a laugh. Jaskier noticed.

“This is actually a job interview, not a seduction,” Geralt said, rather tenderly. “I know we would be getting very intimate on set, but I don’t sleep with my co-stars.”

Yennefer saw a flicker of something in Jaskier’s eye, a little piece of his façade fall, a little tension drop from his shoulder, and saw Geralt look away with a smile that plucked at her spine like a string.

“Geralt, there is one issue,” Yen said. “He cums too fast.”

Jaskier sputtered, and Geralt fixed her with a careful stare.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“First of all, no: I just watched his videos to research, and secondly: I forgive the earlier jab at my professionalism but this? Me, Geralt? You really think I’d sleep with someone before I hire them? And _him?_ You know he’s not my type.”

“That’s not too far off from how we met, my lady,” Jaskier said with a teasing sharpness in his voice that straightened Yen’s spine.

Of course she would never pressure someone to sleep with her to get a job, or do so to “test them out” — but the dawning realization that that’s _exactly_ what she had done with Jaskier— _to Jaskier—_ sent a chill through her. She’d intended to start the call by telling him who she was and to ask if he’d like to audition, but once she’d seen him in that frightful shirt, waiting so wantonly on the bed, for _her_ … somehow she’d gotten caught up in his presence, in what he might do next. In the tension she’d felt between them, the heat. A performance, she knew. A practiced one. And, she knew with fresh horror, a performance under false pretenses.

Jaskier had no way of knowing why she was on the other side, that she’d been watching with purely professional intentions— but he had clearly figured out it was her and thought that she very much hadn’t been pure in any of her intentions. She swallowed hard but it burned like bile in her throat, weighing down her tongue.

Geralt was quiet for a moment, watching her, before he shifted his gaze to Jaskier and said, “We can work around that. It’s pretty normal for new performers. And our viewers are usually more focused on, um,” and Yennefer’s eyes snapped to him as a faint blush bloomed on his cheeks, “me.”

“Yes, I know,” Jaskier said gently, kindly. Yennefer could feel her heart beating very fast.

Geralt coughed and sat up straight. “That is, if you’re interested in collaborating.”

Both of them watched Jaskier now, Geralt still blushing, Yennefer doing her best to hide the burning she felt on her own cheek. This was the part where they were all clothed and yet somehow she felt more naked than she’d ever been. She knew Jaskier could feel their discomfort, their gazes on him.

“It’s not easy work,” Geralt continued.

“I know, I do plenty of—“

“No, I mean, filming for eight, ten hours, it can be… very uncomfortable at times. Even painful. But I want you to know I would do my best to make sure that never came from me. That you can always stop, always take a break, always walk away. That, I can promise you.”

That was exactly why she and Geralt had started all this anyway. She decided then and there: if Jaskier agreed, she would be the most professional, most discreet, most boundary-observing she had ever been. She had crossed a line, and she would do everything to show him she was, in fact, very good at her job _because_ she respected and protected those in her employ. If he decided that would include him. She did not think about whether or not she wanted it to include him, but she felt anger prickle beneath her skin, making her itch to prove him wrong.

She found Jaskier was staring at her, and asked her: “How do we start?”

“I’ll have Legal send you our basic contract, and once it’s signed I’ll send you the script for the video we’re shooting next. You’ll give us your availability, and we’ll set a shooting schedule,” Yennefer replied. Jaskier nodded. “There are a few things you’ll need to do to prepare: some fasting, and we can set you up for an enema—“

“—I think I can handle my own enema, _thanks_ ,” Jaskier said, a little too proudly.

“As you wish.”

“I don’t even know why we have a script, it’s just a pizza delivery,” Geralt grumbled.

“Classic!” Jaskier said. “Will I be delivering? Or eating?” he asked with a wink, and Yen’s anger and guilt were suddenly flooded with a keen exasperation for this truly idiotic man. She would keep it together. For Geralt.

“Yen, send him the script.”

Geralt stood, and the others followed him out the door. Yen noted Geralt was blinking quickly and realized how much this had exhausted him on top of the full day’s shooting— she’d have to drive him home. She wordlessly reached for his keys as he handed them to her. Meeting over, she turned quickly to leave.

She was halfway to his car when she saw Jaskier strolling beside Geralt. She could barely make out their conversation, but:

“Can I ask you one thing?” Jaskier asked. Geralt nodded. “If it’s painful for you… why do you do it?”

Yennefer held her breath as she waited for the answer, as Geralt considered the question, as he formed his thoughts.

“It’s who I am.”

Jaskier smiled softly at him. How quickly he’d drawn so much from both of them. Her earlier assessment was right. This was a terrible idea.

“Lovely to meet you both. Ooh I can’t wait to talk costumes! Maybe a little hat? Do we have pizza shop names? Maybe “Oozy Boy Pizzeria”? Okay, see you soon!” He flounced away in the drizzling rain, his wretched shirt quickly becoming soaked to his broad chest, his moistened fringe flipping ludicrously as his long legs bounced across the pavement.

Terrible indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of Geralt and Jaskier's first shoot together, Jaskier has several bad ideas. Yennefer remains a consummate professional, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** smut. Oral sex, mild hair-pulling. Anal sex. Descriptions of cum on skin & the floor. Workplace attraction. Erotic eye contact?

“Did somebody order a pizza?” Jaskier leaned in the apartment doorway with a cheeky grin, an empty pizza box balanced on his shoulder, an off-brand Pizza Hut hat on his head, his shorts tighter and shorter than Yennefer had thought possible, his chest hair thankfully imprisoned in a black polo shirt, with tall tube socks and running shoes on. He looked ridiculous. As usual.

This was definitely a terrible idea.

“You’re late,” Geralt growled, fully in-character and leering menacingly in the doorway. “Your ad says 30 minutes or less or it’s free.”

“Fewer.”

“What?”

“I know the ad says ‘less,’ but it should be ‘fewer,’ not ‘less.’”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at the improvisation. She stood beside Triss behind the monitors, and watched the live-feed through the screens as Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the collar and pulled him closer.

“Do I look like I give a shit? I’m not paying for this, now hand it over, I’m starving.”

Yennefer grinned. Not that this part was particularly important, but it was actually… _good_? Ish? Their chemistry on-camera was even better than it had been in Geralt’s trailer just over two weeks ago.

“P-please, sir, please! There was traffic and you’re the third pizza I’ve delivered late, and I, I just _can’t_ — I’ll do _anything_ , just _please_ don’t tell my manager!”

Geralt pulled Jaskier closer by the collar and smirked.

“Anything?”

A flush raised straight up Jaskier’s neck to his cheeks. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. Geralt was entranced. And so was Yennefer.

“Oh, yes, _please_ ,” Jaskier murmured. Geralt dragged him inside by the collar and shut the door.

“CUT! We got it. Next setup!”

—

“On your knees, pizza boy.”

Jaskier grinned and dropped to his knees on the hardwood before Geralt, who unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans with ease before slowly drawing out the real star of the video: his cock.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier whispered, genuinely in awe of the size of it, even soft— this was his first time seeing it in person, Yennefer realized. “Guess you’re a show-er, huh?”

“I’m not,” Geralt said, and grabbed Jaskier by the neck to slip his cock down his throat. Jaskier slipped a hand discreetly around Geralt’s ankle, an unspoken communication they’d agreed upon if he needed to stop, needed air. But from the looks of it, Jaskier had no intention of stopping.

Yennefer watched, stunned, as he devoured Geralt’s cock, moaning and sucking and licking and whining, seemingly lost in the act, lost in the feeling of service. He was… very good at this.

Triss caught Yen’s eye and gave her a wink. Yen smiled back thinly. Then she noticed Geralt.

Normally blank-faced and utterly unaffected by anything another performer did to or with him, Geralt was… _struggling._ Sweating. Flushed. His lips were pressed tightly together. Yennefer’s brow creased as she watched.

Eventually, Geralt pulled Jaskier off his cock, revealing clearly how hard he’d gotten him. Jaskier gasped anew at the sight. Geralt recovered and growled: “You want this?”

Jaskier nodded eagerly, his wet, red lips still parted and raw from use.

“Then beg for it.”

Yen’s heart pounded as she watched Jaskier squirm at Geralt’s feet.

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, I need your thick cock. _Please— please fuck me with it_ ,” Jaskier moaned, mouth diving towards the cock in question again. Geralt hissed and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him off. Jaskier’s eyes flew open wide— this was not the plan.

“Stop— can we stop?” Geralt asked, and the word “CUT” echoed around them again. “I’m sorry.”

Triss walked up to the pair. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes searching Geralt’s. “Let’s take a break. We should do the blowjob coverage on just you, anyway, before we move on. You looked a little… you’re gonna want another take.”

Geralt nodded in thanks as she left, still catching his breath, then turned to Jaskier. “I’m sorry I touched you like that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah that was— am I allowed to say that was hot? That was really great. Grabbing my hair is always good for me, it ah… it’ll get me more worked up.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shot up. “Then maybe we do need a break. Make sure you don’t get too hard, we still have hours to go.”

“I can handle it,” Jaskier said with a smirk, then looked directly at Yennefer. Yen looked away quickly, then checked in with the AD on the schedule. When she looked back at him, Jaskier was gone.

—

“You’re sure?” Geralt asked him. Jaskier nodded. “This is a bad idea.”

“It’s gonna work, trust me.”

“When you’re ready,” Triss called from the monitor. Jaskier winked at Geralt from his knees, their earlier positions resumed.

“Show me,” Geralt growled, instantly back in character.

Jaskier sucked in a breath, turned on by the instant shift, then nodded and unfastened his little shorts to let his hard cock out.

Yennefer absolutely did not lick her lips at the sight of the lovely thick curve again. She didn’t. She kept them firmly, professionally closed, even at the reedy little whines Jaskier made as he started to stroke himself until he was leaking. She’d been on sets like this for years, and it was clinical, even gross. It was business. It hadn’t affected her before and it wouldn’t now.

Geralt swiped at Jaskier’s shoulder, sending him onto his hands and knees, and tore his shorts down his thighs, exposing his round, flushed ass. Jaskier moaned at the action and arched his back wantonly.

“You’re not a pizza boy, you’re a pizza slut,” Geralt said.

“ _Please_ , sir, _please— I need it—_ “ Jaskier wiggled and whined, desperate for his cock.

Geralt roughly gripped Jaskier’s cheeks, spreading them for the camera, exposing his slicked, gaping asshole before teasing the rim with his thumb. Jaskier shivered at the contact.

“Need what?”

“ _Your cock, please— please sir,_ ” he gasped, _“Need to feel it_.”

“Oh, you’ll feel it,” Geralt promised, getting to his knees and lining up with Jaskier’s ass.

The tease of it, the tension in the moments before, that was key, Yennefer knew, and they drew it out. She watched as Geralt gripped the soft flesh of Jaskier’s hip with one hand, still holding him open with the other. Saw Jaskier’s foot tap against Geralt’s leg in reassurance that he was ready.

Geralt thrust into him roughly, in one movement, and Jaskier arched and screamed at the intrusion before falling to his elbows and letting out a shaky moan. Yennefer saw his foot tap Geralt’s leg again— this was performance. It had been Jaskier's idea, actually. And he was fine.

“ _Oh, fuck, oh fuck, fuck fuck_ ,” he moaned, and Geralt began to do just that, thrusting into him in a steady rhythm, grabbing his shoulder with one hand to manhandle his entire torso where he wanted him, to bring his head up for the other camera.

Jaskier’s face was flushed and red, his eyes closed and mouth open, still streaming curses—

“ _Oh fuck, fuck it’s so big. I’ve never felt anything like this before, please don’t stop—“_

“Think I liked you better with your mouth full,” Geralt growled, and snaked his hand from Jaskier’s shoulder and up his throat, into his mouth, slipping his fingers inside and pulling Jaskier more upright.

Jaskier moaned and sucked eagerly, breathlessly as Geralt continued fucking into him at a relentless pace.

From behind the monitors, Yennefer noticed how red and strained Jaskier’s dick was with growing alarm. They hadn’t planned too many positions this time, but the day was far from done, and Jaskier was clearly at the edge already.

She glanced up and saw him looking directly at her. Heat flushed up her neck and down to her core at his glazed eyes, at how pliant he looked, how open and receptive and _needy_ , and looking right at her. How it seemed to shift something in him, seeing her watch him like this. He smiled around Geralt’s fingers in his mouth, drool dripping down his chin. _Ridiculous, stupid man_ , she had time to think, and then saw his brow crease, heard him moan, felt a twinge inside her, then realized—

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his as Jaskier moaned wantonly around Geralt’s fingers and came in spurts across the hardwood floor.

What she didn’t expect, what no one expected, least of all Geralt, was that as Jaskier clenched around Geralt through his orgasm, Geralt lost control. Yennefer watched as his eyes fluttered, and, having been the cause of this expression many times in their past, knew.

Geralt moaned loudly, his hand slipping back to grip Jaskier’s hips tightly as he grunted and thrust rapidly, then came inside him in long pulses. He was flushed, panting, his eyes watery, before he came back to himself.

You could hear a pin drop on set.

Geralt pulled roughly out of Jaskier and rested his wet cock on his round ass, as one of the two cameras eased forward to capture the cum dribbling out of Jaskier.

For a moment, nobody breathed. This wasn’t the plan. And the silent giant, well— he hadn’t been so silent.

Jaskier turned and looked up at Geralt. Some cum had even streaked across his black uniform.

“Sir, can I… can I please— have I earned a tip?” he asked, crawling to offer his mouth to clean Geralt’s cock.

“You want more? Here’s your tip, pizza slut,” Geralt growled, back in character again, and Jaskier closed his eyes angelically as he set his tongue to work. “And you can lick your filth off the floor when you’re done.”

Yennefer let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Geralt pulled Jaskier by the hair off his cock a few moments later and rose to his feet.

“CUT!” Yen glanced at Triss and Triss nodded back. “That’s a wrap for today!”

Yen strode to Geralt’s side as he tucked his cock away. A wordless exchange between them, and she knew he was rattled.

She glanced at Jaskier, still on the floor, slowly tugging his shorts up and getting himself together.

“That was… you were good, new guy.”

“Uh, thanks,” he replied, still catching his breath.

She strode quickly away, very much _not_ thinking about what had transpired, and especially not how this was the second time she’d been looking into this idiot’s eyes as he came, especially not remembering how he looked as it had happened— how desperate, how open, how somehow both times it looked and felt like it was for _her_ , and especially _especially_ not how she might want it to happen again.

She was a professional, after all. They both were. Working together. At work. Nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a friends and family party to celebrate the wild success of Geralt and Jaskier's _Pizza Slut_ video, Jaskier gets a little drunk on the attention and the _lack of attention_ from Yennefer, and finds Geralt earnestly offering him a gift he can't refuse. 
> 
> (It's his ass.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** alcohol mention, stripping, teensy bit of exhibitionism, bit of a handy-j, anal fingering, oral sex, anal sex, and some very lovely making out.

Jaskier entered the rented house— mansion, really— to find the party in full swing. Lights, a DJ, assorted condoms and Riviera-branded single-use packets of lube in bowls everywhere, and strippers dancing on the massive kitchen island in the open-plan modern room. Including his friend Nyx! He waved at them and realized he felt remarkably at home, despite the nervous tingle beneath his skin.

He had no idea why. Marketed as “The Silent Giant Loses Control!!!”, his and Geralt’s _Pizza Slut_ video had been a huge success, hence this party. It had brought him new, regular patrons craving the man who’d broken the giant’s silence. And to be perfectly honest, he didn’t hate the attention. He’d always loved an audience.

Even here, his coworkers (and whomever they’d invited)’s gazes powered his way across the floor. He felt a specific pair of eyes on him before he saw them. Geralt, in a dark sweater and trousers with his hair tied up, sitting awkwardly in a modernist, squat armchair, his legs habitually spread wide. Glancing down quickly, pretending he hadn’t been staring. He looked… really good. On the arm of his chair perched Yennefer, with a bottle of beer bearing a very fancy-looking label in her long, slender fingers, made longer by her sharp nails. But unlike everyone else at this party, he slowly realized, she refused to look at him.

He could feel his cheek flush. Bathed in a pool of pink light and across the room, she was totally luminous. Her beauty was truly otherworldly, something someone would’ve once written a song or some kind of epic poem about. He remembered how stunned he’d been when he first saw her in person, then shocked to realize from her voice that it had been her across that screen from him.

Shocked from the intrusion, the _deception_ , of course. From how she’d used him, watching him work, making him think she was there _for him,_ without telling him it was strictly business. He remembered, with a flicker of heat, how badly he’d wanted to hear her cum.

And now she steadfastly refused to look at him.

He found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Not in the trailer, not on set, and certainly not now, as he remembered the low thrum of her voice. She twisted in her tight black dress, revealing her lovely collarbone before a lock of curly hair fell over her shoulder and covered it again.

Jaskier found his mouth was very dry.

He grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and downed it before waiting to discover what it was, then smiled broadly and strode across the room towards them, redirecting his gaze toward Geralt, who was still pretending not to stare at him.

The air in the room seemed to disappear as he casually slid onto Geralt’s lap and greeted him with a “hey.” He knew everyone was watching them, and so did Yennefer.

Especially as she “accidentally” spilled her beer all over his shirt.

“Hey!” he exclaimed as he jumped out of Geralt’s lap.

“Oops,” she said, then walked to the bar, without even looking at him.

“That’s fine. Didn’t need that anyway,” he called after her.

Feeling all eyes on him still, he smirked and slowly stripped out of the shirt, tossing it onto the floor before wiggling onto Geralt’s lap again.

“What are you doing?” Geralt asked him, softly.

“You looked so uncomfortable over here, I thought I’d come over and see how much more uncomfortable I could make you.”

Geralt said nothing, delightfully impenetrable in his sweater, which Jaskier stroked absently.

“You know, for someone who literally stars in porn for a living, you sure hate people looking at you,” Jaskier said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear.

“No one’s looking at my face when my pants are off.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jaskier breathed, studying that face. Its awkward scars and angles, and the desperate eyes hiding just behind them. “Well, they’re missing out.”

He saw something flicker in Geralt’s eye— another moment of vulnerability. Jaskier slowly let in a breath, sensing this was uncommon for the man. And somehow something he’d drawn out of him repeatedly. Something he did not want to fuck up, though he was pretty sure he would.

Just then, he caught sight of Yennefer and Triss laughing and smiling with Nyx, who was still dancing on the kitchen island and laughing as they shook their ass in Triss’ face. Jaskier shifted in Geralt’s lap and suddenly felt Geralt’s hand on his hip: warm and surprisingly soft and steady. He hardly had time to register his pleasure at the touch before he found himself gently pushed to standing.

Geralt stood and looked at him for a moment before deciding to say: “I’m getting a drink.” And then he was gone.

Abandoned, Jaskier decided there was nothing for it. He wanted to dance.

—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yennefer murmured under her breath, watching the foolish man strut onto the dance floor, now shirtless, the sticky remnants of her beer likely still clinging to his hairy chest. She glanced away before she could fully absorb how tight his trousers were, how they clung to his hips and ass and— again, she was _not_ looking, so she didn’t see or think about what else they might cling to. Though she was usually much more relaxed at work parties like these, it was still a work party. Maybe that’s why the idiot felt he needed to put on a show.

She found her fingers teasing off the edge of the label on her beer and stilled them, grasping the bottle firmly in her grip. No better, she set it down.

“Yen. Where’d you go?” Triss teased her, swatting her arm lightly. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” Yennefer covered quickly.

“Anyway, that’s when I knew I wanted to keep working with you guys,” Triss said, leaning onto the island countertop beside her, aiming her gaze along Yennefer’s trajectory toward the dance floor.

“Huh?”

“First wrap party. It was so fucking wild, I know— but underneath it, there was this… invisible structure. Like some kind of magic web.” Yennefer felt Triss’ hand tap her own and glanced at her. There she was, warm and smiling and caring. “I felt safe. I knew, because I fucking _know you_ , that despite the façade, you were taking care of it. And that’s why I’m still here. Because you’re a boss bitch.”

Yennefer found her beer pressed into her hand again, found Triss tapping it with her drink. She looked up, confused.

“To boss bitches.”

“Yeah.” She took a sip and continued to not watch the horrible little shit at the center of the party.

—

Two drinks later, Jaskier had joined Nyx and their fellow dancer Ashley on the kitchen island, dancing and singing to, of all things, “I’m The One That You Want,” yes, from the movie musical _Grease._ Not particularly subtle, but then that never was Jaskier’s style.

Yennefer still nursed her beer at the far edge of the (frankly, collosal) kitchen island with Triss, frustratingly still refusing to so much as look at Jaskier. No matter how hard he shimmied. No matter how flawlessly he wriggled off his trousers. She continued chatting and mingling as though he weren’t even there. Even as he turned and bent over for the chorus to let Nyx and Ashley smack his ass. Appalling.

Geralt, on the other hand, had taken refuge in another nook on the far side of the room— as much of a nook as he could occupy, with his legs still spread wide. Jaskier could feel his steady gaze on him, turned, caught his eye, and winked.

He couldn’t really tell in the light, of course, but he thought he saw Geralt blush. He glanced back at Yen and found she was gone.

—

Air. She needed air. The house had gotten so stuffy— to be expected, with everyone laughing and dancing and talking— but that creeping cloying feeling was getting all too familiar, a feeling pervading her work, her set, Geralt’s trailer—

Yennefer took a deep breath on the balcony overlooking the twinkling city and found some clarity. Despite her best efforts in the past (and his, some of the time) she and Geralt were a unit. They had a deep, unspoken connection neither of them really understood— and that lack of understanding had meant… well, it meant they seemed to work better in this professional collaboration and not a romantic one. They were too alike. That’s what she’d told him when she broke them up for the last time. Maybe that likeness was what held them together at work.

That likeness was how she’d known the little goblin man would be a good fit for Geralt— and for Gerry Riviera. She’d simply trusted her instincts, and she was right— beyond right. Her instincts had told her that his needy, desperate, vulnerable, devourable energy would be just the thing for the silent giant. Of course she hadn’t expected it to have that effect on Geralt— he’d never really been with anyone like that in the past. Someone so… _demanding_. Someone who rose to every challenge. Someone who was _playing_ , who was pushing, delving, eager to see everything, everything hidden…

Yennefer breathed deeply again. This was all a good thing. Probably a fluke, but more than worth another video. She turned to watch the party rage on inside: the realm of which she was queen and protectress. She smiled softly to herself. And did not think about how stuffy it was starting to feel out here, too.

—

A turn on the dancefloor and a chugged bottle of water later, Jaskier rushed to the bathroom, desperate for a piss and to check his makeup, which he was sure was streaking down his face and making him look like a panda (as usual, no matter how much setting spray he used). Perhaps more importantly, or actually not importantly in any way at all, Yennefer was nowhere to be found. Had abandoned her own work event. That she had done so in the middle of his striptease was neither here nor there.

He opened the bathroom door— one of these horrible rich-people designs of frosted glass, offering high glamour but little privacy— and hurried through.

He found Geralt sitting on the edge of the tub.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, turning to leave. “I didn’t reali—“ and then he registered that Geralt was fully dressed, his trousers stretched around his thighs. Not using the toilet. He appeared to be…

“Wait, are you… _hiding_?”

“No,” said Geralt, very clearly caught and lying.

“Okay, well I really have to piss, can you not-hide and _not-_ peek at the same time?”

Geralt nodded and turned to allow Jaskier access and a semblance of privacy.

Jaskier edged in behind him and eased his dick out of his tight underwear— he’d lost his trousers somewhere, a problem for Future Jaskier.

“Although I suppose you’ve seen it before.”

“That doesn’t mean I get to see it anytime.”

“ _Get_ to see it? Geralt, that’s very nearly sweet of you,” Jaskier said, finishing, flushing, and tucking his cock away again. He edged over to the sink to wash his hands, hoping Geralt couldn’t see the blush bloom on his cheeks.

“Uh, sure. I mean. I’ve seen a lot of…”

“….dicks? Cocks? Penises?”

“Yours is pretty nice.”

Jaskier shook the water from his hands and clutched his chest in mock-shock.

“That sounded suspiciously like a compliment, Geralt. Whatever shall I do?—FUCK!” He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and the mock-shock became real. His eyeliner had traveled, and he did, indeed, look more and more like a panda.

As he set his face to rights, he saw Geralt turn and meet his eyes in the mirror. Fortunately the bathroom had been well-stocked with q-tips, tissue paper, and more of those Riviera lube packets.

“We had a ton of those left over from a…marketing event,” Geralt explained awkwardly. “My last decision in that realm, after Yen came on. She always puts them out at parties, to get rid of them.”

“Are you going to avoid telling me why you’re hiding in here? Since this is your party? You’re the one who’s made… all this. Who’s made it as successful as it is. You should enjoy it.”

Jaskier finished up and turned to lean against the counter, facing Geralt, who was studying the floor like there might be a quiz on it later.

“This isn’t really my thing,” he mumbled. “I’m not good with— I’d rather just celebrate with a few people.” He looked up at Jaskier, so blazingly open, and Jaskier couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him.

Geralt kissed him back very gently, as though he might break. Then pulled away.

“I’m so sorry,” Geralt said. “I wasn’t lying, I really don’t sleep with my co-stars, or co-workers, or—“

“It’s just a kiss,” Jaskier said. “Believe me, you’re not taking advantage of me, Geralt.” He leaned back against the counter, the air suddenly thick between them. “But I don’t want to you to think I want… that I’m trying to fuck my way up the ladder or something.”

“Where else would you go?” Geralt asked with a wry smile. “You know another collaboration is yours if you want it, the way this video went over.”

“Exactly!” Jaskier said, “Exactly. So you’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Hmm,” Geralt mused, clearly stumped for his next protest. His eyes flicked up to Jaskier’s, open and wondering. “But then why…?”

“Because I feel this overwhelming urge… to take care of you,” Jaskier said and kissed him again, softly scratching his fingers up Geralt’s scalp and pulling him close by the hair. Geralt whimpered quietly into his mouth at the contact, which had Jaskier suddenly needing to be close, so much closer to him— he pressed his whole body against him and let a hand roam down his broad back to press him even closer.

“Because you’ve been staring at me all night. Because I liked it.”

Geralt tilted his head and allowed Jaskier to deepen the kiss, to tongue softly, testingly at his lower lip. Geralt drew in a short breath, and Jaskier groaned— this was too delicious. He pressed Geralt against the edge of the tub, desperate for every part of him he could have.

And, it seemed, he could have quite a few parts. Jaskier slid a thigh between Geralt’s legs and felt the unmistakable pressure of his hardening cock. The length of it, the memory of it, had Jaskier moaning into Geralt’s mouth as he grinded his own interested dick against his hip. His hands roamed Geralt’s body, drinking in anything they could feel— the broadness of him, the softness of him, of his ass— the connection between them was so consuming. Jaskier could have rutted himself to completion standing right there against the tub.

He broke away, leaving them both panting, but he had to see, had to look in Geralt’s eyes and know he was okay with this. Fuck, the man was so sturdy-looking, but Jaskier had seen too much just how soft he was, how soft he always fucking was with him.

Geralt looked stunned, his bruised lips still open, his eyes bleary with desire.

“Do you want me to…?” Jaskier began.

“Please don’t stop.”

Jaskier grinned and kissed him again, this time leaving space to trace his fingers up Geralt’s sweater, enough to strip it off of him. Geralt’s hands traced up and down his naked torso, edging around the rim of his underwear as though asking permission. Jaskier quickly unbuckled Geralt’s belt and undid his pants, then relished his reunion with Geralt’s thick cock, giving it a few friendly pulls before sinking to his knees.

He found Geralt tugging him up to stand.

“No— I—“

“What do you want?” Jaskier breathed into him, sensing his panic, and kissed him, pressing their cocks between them.

Geralt sucked in a breath, then the reticent fingers at the edge of Jaskier’s underwear grew bold and finally dipped in to draw Jaskier’s cock out. Geralt looked at Jaskier so openly, so hopefully, like he was begging him to let him continue as he sank to his knees. Jaskier looked down as the man opened his mouth and closed his eyes, waiting, as though the use of his mouth would be a blessing. Who was Jaskier to deny him?

He gently eased his cock towards Geralt’s mouth and found it eagerly anticipated, kissed and sucked and suddenly slipped down his throat. Jaskier braced himself against the sink, struggling to breathe at the sensation, struggling to keep quiet— a struggle Geralt did not seem concerned about himself as he brought Jaskier to aching hardness.

Geralt moaned wantonly as he came off and sucked the tip, his large hands caressing Jaskier’s balls, his fingers pressing just behind them, making Jaskier buck his hips involuntarily. He gently eased Geralt back and found the man looking up at him, bewildered and desperate. He pulled him up to a kiss.

“ _Fuck, fuck_ you’re so good at that, _how’d you get so good at that_?”

Geralt didn’t answer, Jaskier could just feel his grin as he kissed him and pressed their cocks together again.

Jaskier hissed at the contact and shifted back, eyeing Geralt as he grabbed one of those ridiculous lube packets.

“A good thing these are around, after all,” he said, opening it and leaning over the countertop, arching his ass towards Geralt. He found his elbow gently pulled back, found himself spun and standing chest-to-chest with Geralt.

“No,” Geralt whispered. “I mean… _please_ , will you…?” Out of words, Geralt quickly wiggled his own trousers and boxers down his thighs and bent over the counter, unable to even look at Jaskier.

A fresh flush of heat rose through Jaskier at the sight, at what he was being asked. He bent down to reverently lay kisses along Geralt’s spine until he reached his shoulder and whispered:

“Are you sure?”

Geralt nodded, and Jaskier grinned. He spread the lube across his fingers one-handedly, letting his other gently graze across the skin of Geralt’s back, delighting in the shivers it sent up his spine. His hand drifted down to Geralt’s ass, massaging into the muscle there before thumbing the flesh to spread him. Geralt tensed at the touch— suddenly sensing how open, how bare he was to Jaskier. Jaskier laid a kiss on the small of his back and slipped a finger around Geralt’s rim.

Geralt sighed softly at the light, continuous touch. But Jaskier held him there— a mischievous something welled up in him. He had to know what would happen. What Geralt would _do._ If he teased. Just a little.

Geralt’s eyes were screwed closed, a look of frustration building on his face. After a few minutes, he arched his back and pressed into Jaskier’s touch with a whine.

“You want more?”

“ _Fuck, please—_ “

He really was too delicious— Jaskier gently pressed a finger inside, expecting to find him as impenetrable as the face he wore in public, in his videos. Instead…

“Oh shit you’re so… you’re ready.”

“ _Please— I haven’t— with anyone, in…”_

“You do this to yourself then. And often,” Jaskier said with a grin, bending to press another kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. He could feel his own dick twitch against Geralt’s thigh at the thought of Geralt, alone, fingering himself— possibly even fucking himself on a dildo. Possibly even before this party?

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier breathed, slipping his fingers out, earning another whine from Geralt, who writhed his hips back at Jaskier, needy and desperate already.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Jaskier told him, quickly tearing at another lube packet and struggling, finally taking it in his teeth before the thing gushed open and he caught the liquid, spreading it across his hard cock.

“You want me to fuck you?”

Geralt whined and arched his back again. Jaskier leaned in close.

“I wanna hear it.”

“ _Fuck, please fuck me, please, please, I need—“_ Geralt broke off with an honest-to-god whimper, and Jaskier found the lily was quite gilded enough and eased the tip of his cock against Geralt’s hole. Geralt let out a soft, broken moan at the touch and Jaskier found himself surging forward, neatly buried in Geralt’s ass.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered again, and then his breath was gone, punched out of him at the feeling of Geralt rolling his hips to fuck himself on Jaskier’s dick.

“No, hey, you wanted to get fucked. And Geralt,” Jaskier said, grabbing Geralt’s shoulder so he could meet his gaze in the mirror. “I happen to be pretty fucking good at this, too,” he finished with a grin and a wink.

Geralt groaned, and not entirely in pleasure. “Jaskier please just fucking get on with it—“

Jaskier silenced him with a well-aimed thrust. Or, rather, did not silence him, as Geralt’s groan turned into a legitimate moan. The heat of him, the tightness of him— the sight of Geralt, utterly undone by a single thrust… it was intoxicating. Jaskier did it again.

Geralt moaned against the thrust. Loudly, echoing around the bathroom. Jaskier met Geralt’s eyes in the mirror and began to work up a rhythm, fucking into him in controlled, deep thrusts, then dragging back carefully, noticing exactly the angle that made Geralt’s eyes roll back slightly and his mouth go a little slack with the pleasure. With one hand, he snaked forward and held Geralt’s balls in the palm of his hand, gently working them over as he continued to thrust.

“Oh, _fuck, fuck, Jaskier— harder, I need it—“_

At his name on Geralt’s lips, Jaskier felt his cock throb— at the realization that Geralt’s voice was echoing around the bathroom _and very likely out that frosted glass door_ , that heady pressure surged deep within him— he didn’t know how long—

And then he saw a dark shape just outside that frosted glass door. And somehow, through the tiniest crack between door and wall, saw a beautiful, almost violet eye he now knew all too well. Watching him.

Jaskier stuttered and came looking into Yennefer’s eyes. He blinked and they were gone, if they’d ever really been there at all.

He turned back to the mirror as his orgasm pulsed through him and found Geralt’s thoroughly fucked-out gaze. “Fuck, you’re so good Geralt, you feel so fucking good—“ he murmured, still catching his breath, and brought both hands to Geralt’s cock to bring him off. But at his words, Geralt came with a moan, looking utterly lost in his eyes.

“Darling, you are—,” Jaskier whispered as he slowly pulled out, “I haven’t—. I mean—. _That_ was—,”

“Yeah,” Geralt said, collapsing onto the bathroom counter. He met Jaskier’s gaze with a shy smile. “I uh… I don’t get to do that often.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, and kissed him. “You definitely should. Anytime you feel yourself in need, I would be honored to uh…”

“Fuck me?”

Jaskier stumbled over the tile floor and grabbed his underwear. “Yeah.” He pulled them on quickly, then glanced in the mirror, and saw Geralt try to put himself together.

He looked… just so soft, so pretty, Jaskier wondered what he’d been like when he was young, fresh-faced. Then he wondered how he’d got that scar. And the whole tremendous tumble of it made him surge forward to kiss Geralt deeply again, to just try and impart some of that care and feeling into him, if he could. Geralt gently parted the kiss.

“Please don’t—,” Jaskier began, then met his eyes again, could feel Geralt steel himself. “Please don’t worry about this. I promise, I mean first of all that was sensational, but: it’s not going to be weird. Because I decided it’s not. So it won’t be.”

He gave Geralt a quick kiss on the nose, then glanced in the mirror. His makeup was fine.

“I’ll go out first, draw everyone’s attention away. No one will know.”

Geralt winced, but nodded, clearly out of his depth with this kind of thing where Jaskier was definitely not.

But when Jaskier opened the door, he found the house was entirely empty. Everyone was gone. He couldn’t help but think of that violet eye, and wondered if she’d really been there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer, Jaskier, and Geralt deal with the aftermath of the release party in their own ways-- and for his part, Geralt finds himself experiencing a little _performance anxiety_ for the first time ever, as he shoots a quick solo video. It's a good thing a certain co-star drops by just in time to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warnings:** lot of jerking off this chapter, folks! Jerking off and cunnilingus, some verbal humiliation, some pegging of a generic/unnamed male OC, and some very important conversations about consent.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to not have any smut in it, and then I had writer's block for three months and [@fortune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber) had THE BEST, JUICIEST IDEA and I just HAD TO DO IT so now it has about four smut scenes! Whoopsie! Her idea is what follows here.

A week had passed since the party, and Yen hadn’t thought about what she’d seen that night at all. She did not think about Jaskier’s stupid little flushed face, his pink lips reddened with pleasure. How commanding Jaskier had seemed, how focused on his lover’s body, how rather expertly, actually, he’d taken Geralt apart.

Yen definitely didn’t think about how _wrecked_ Geralt had looked, didn’t think about the last time she’d seen him like that, in her bed, before they had separated this last time, a time she’d said would be the last time. And because she didn’t think about it, she didn’t feel a flush of unexpected arousal at the memory.

So while she spent time not thinking about all this, she didn’t let herself think about the soft way Jaskier had looked at Geralt, after they’d finished. And thank goodness, because she didn’t really know what to call whatever she’d feel if she did think about that. Which, she didn’t.

Because Yennefer was busy.

“This is better, don’t you think?” she asked her lover as she fucked him from behind, her hips rolling, giving herself as much sensation as possible.

“ _Oh fuck, don’t stop_ —“

“Don’t talk. Please,” she told him, then gently shoved his face into the couch. He let out a muffled moan, and something about his tousled brown hair made her angry, made her ride him harder, which only made his moans louder.

“I’m going to slap you know.” His eyes ticked up to hers, wide and bewildered, but he nodded. She slapped his ass and he bucked into her. Another slap and he snaked his hands up to paw at her breasts—

“Don’t touch me, thanks,” she told him, and held his wrists at his sides until she was sure they’d stay. He looked a bit pitiful like this, fucked into the couch and pliant for her. She gently thumbed over his nipple, and he gasped in pleasure, bucking against her again.

She could tell he was close. Frustred, Yen fingered her clit and thrust into him hard. He came too fast with a loud, unsettling moan. Yen closed her eyes and slipped out, fingering herself, so close, and just as she came, realized exactly why she’d swiped right on this particular guy with floppy brown hair. At the thought of the idiot Jaskier, the memory of the number of times she’d seen him cum, at the overwhelmed openness of his expression, her arousal crested in wave after wave.

The moment it was over, she unbuckled the strap and slipped into the bathroom.

“Hey,” he said, smiling a dopey, fucked-out smile at her from the bed, when she returned.

“I have to go to work,” she said, already shrugging into her blouse.

“But this is your place,” he chuckled. She finished the buttons and pulled on her skirt.

“I know. You’d better put something on by the time I lock the door behind you.”

—

Geralt was nervous.

He’d done this dozens, maybe hundreds of time at this point. It was just a simple solo video, filmed in a room in their offices. Honestly, usually the issue was changing things up from the last video, he so easily hit a rhythm. He had no reason to be nervous.

From the easy, familiar way the limited crew was acting around him, he gathered everyone had actually left by the time he’d—. By the time they’d—. Gotten louder. At the party last weekend. And so he thought, with that hurdle cleared, his nerves would go away. Jaskier wouldn’t even be here today.

Somehow, his nerves still were. He couldn’t even get half hard.

“Everybody take ten,” Yen said, striding into the room from her office. She grabbed an applebox and sat beside him as he tucked his cock away, more out of politeness than anything else. “We can shoot this tomorrow. You’ve been… under a lot of pressure. Lately.”

Geralt watched in surprise as she took his hand, holding his thick index finger softly in her grip, and tugged slightly in unconscious intimacy. He met her bright eyes.

“Geralt… I know you like doing this, but… you can stop.”

“And put all these people out of work?” Geralt asked ruefully.

“We’ve already paid them for the day. But I mean… you can stop doing this whenever you want.” A tension in Geralt’s shoulder shifted as Yen’s thumb stroked over his knuckle. “We can always get someone else to do the money shot.”

“No! I can do it,” Geralt said, standing and stretching a bit. “Just gimme a minute and we can call everyone back when I’m ready.” He settled back down on his chair, and Yen bent over and absently kissed his brow.

Geralt watched as she click-clacked her way out of the empty room. Then he heard another voice—

“Oh, Yen! Yeah I came by for a copy of our next script— I don’t have a printer.”

Geralt expected his nerves to clench down on him, but found he was more excited to hear Jaskier’s voice. He glanced up.

“Jaskier. Nobody told me. I have a copy in my office you can have.”

Geralt suddenly noticed the waver in Yen’s voice, the way she cleared her throat and suddenly deepened her tone. Something no one in the world would notice but him. She was flustered.

Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, at his bright pink cheeks.

“Er, what’s going on? I thought we didn’t shoot until next Monday— I’m not late am I?”

Jaskier toyed with his thin shirt.

“No, no, Geralt’s doing a quick solo. He does one every month or so for subscribers.”

Yen crossed her arms in front of her breasts.

“Oh, I see, I see. So…why’s everyone outside then?”

Yen met Geralt’s eyes from across the room, then he found Jaskier looking right at him, eyes wide, mouth wet, shirt ludicrously open as usual, tufts of his chest hair peeking out.

Geralt cleared his throat. “Yen… bring them in.”

—

Ten minutes later, the small crew held their positions diligently as Geralt stroked at his half-hard cock. Jaskier kept to the side, tucked into a corner, flashing Geralt smiles of encouragement, and finally, a double-thumbs up.

He should never’ve come today— he should’ve asked Geralt for a friendly coffee first, just to break the ice after the truly exceptional bathroom tryst they’d shared. He was just about to turn and go when Geralt caught his eye, and he saw a tiny little flicker of rejection. Well that wouldn’t do at all.

Before he could really think about what he was doing— and if he was honest, when had he ever let that stop him before— he held Geralt’s gaze and made sure he saw as he slipped his hand into his trousers, palming at himself. He was chubbing at the sight of Geralt’s prick, and it didn’t take much to bring himself to full hardness.

He kept quiet, secret, but as he glanced at Geralt again, he was pleased to find his cheeks flushed and his cock rapidly hardening to it’s boggling erect size.

Jaskier unbuttoned his trousers— they were quickly becoming too tight— and let the tip of his cock peek out. Geralt licked his lips and stroked harder, his breathing growing rough. His eyes looked so needy, desperate, struggling to maintain his stoic persona, it made Jaskier flush from head to toe.

Jaskier palmed at a nipple through his thin shirt, letting his mouth fall open in a silent gasp as he tweaked at it. He let his tongue roll out slightly and kept stroking his cock, the tip leaking now slightly and red. He looked back at Geralt and found his face coiled with anger— he looked directly at the camera and growled, “ _Fuck you.”_ His eyes ticked to Jaskier’s for a half-second with something quiet and honest, and then he snarled and came hard, smirking into the camera.

The crew broke into spontaneous applause before Triss could even yell cut. Jaskier beamed, feeling the love and loyalty this little rag-tag group obviously had for their leader, and also quite thankful for the cover to tuck his cock away and hope no-one noticed how disheveled he was.

His eyes immediately found the hard, appraising eyes of someone who had very obviously noticed. Who had— his cock noted with a twitch— possibly watched him this whole time.

Yennefer.

In a moment she was at his ear, murmuring: “My office. Now.”

—

Yennefer's heart pounded as she led Jaskier into her office. She was furious. Anyone could’ve seen him. She waited until they were inside— glad she got him away from the others, what with how flushed he looked, his lips swolen, tongue red and wet, his eyes needy—

“Anyone could’ve seen you,” she hissed at him, closing the door and brushing past him to her desk.

“Yeah, but—“

“ _Again._ Anyone could’ve seen you _again_ ,” she added, turning back to him, and she watched realization finally dawn across his idiotic face. “Yeah, the party. You’re just lucky I heard you first and somehow managed to convince everyone to go for karaoke.”

“But you…“ he smirked, and before he could finish _that_ thought—

“Do you have any idea how Geralt would’ve felt? A single thought or care for what it would’ve been like for him, just the _idea_ of facing everyone? And now, here, you’re what?”

“Helping?” Jaskier offered quietly, still standing at the door.

“Helping,” she said with a cold look, advancing on him. “No one in that room consented to watch you jerk off today. Did you think about that?”

“They didn’t see—“

“They could’ve!” she continued, delighting slightly in the way he backed up against the door as she let out her rage. “Fuck— I know I fucked up, the way we met, the way—. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I honestly didn’t mean… I have tried hard, here, to make a space where everyone feels safe, from the sound guy taping a mic to you to the performers themselves. Where everyone is treated like a person, where no-one has weird assumptions that our performers are sluts because of what they do. Where everyone feels confident saying no. And everyone who is here has said yes, to each situation.”

She was close to him, now, felt like she was finally getting through to him, the way his lip was trembling, the way _he_ was trembling, pressed against the door. He looked oddly beautiful. That wasn’t the point.

“They could have looked down and seen your soft little cock in your hand.”

Pink flushed across his cheeks again as she looked up at him.

“’s not soft.”

“What did you just say?” she breathed. Giving him an out, yes. But part of her also wanted to scratch at him, so desperately, to see…

“It’s not soft.” He glanced down, and Yennefer felt her eyes follow his. He was right. She could see the outline of his erection through his disastrously thin trousers. “And it’s not little,” he breathed, nervously.

It wasn’t. Yen noticed a little wet spot forming at the head that hadn’t been there before. The stupid little man was impossible. She looked up at him— his eyes were dazed with arousal, his mouth open and needy-looking. She frowned.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” she asked, just a breath away from him. His hips wriggled against the door.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“And you won’t secretly jerk yourself off or expose yourself or do any other lewd activity around anyone without their consent?”

“I won’t,” he murmured again, a slight smirk crossing his mouth.

“Because you know— no one here thinks that doing this work means you’re a slut?”

“But I am a slut,” he said. Yen’s eyes blinked open in surprise. And godsdamn it, he brushed his hand through the buttons of his ridiculous shirt to rest on his nipple.

Yen took in a very deep, ragged breath. “You’re not taking this seriously,” she said, hating how she inflected it with playful disappointment.

“I am, I promise,” he said, stroking the nipple slightly. “But I’m a naughty—“

Yen huffed a laugh.

“—filthy,”

She tilted her head, appraising him, noticing him shiver under her gaze.

“—needy,”

“Don’t forget completely idiotic—“

“—completely idiotic little slut. Who happened to save your shoot just now. By the way.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Yen’s mind racing at the challenge he’d just leveled at her. She held her breath, wondering if she would bite…

“And what do you want me to do? Jerk you off about it?”

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “ _Yes_.”

Her hand found his trousers immediately.

“Beg.”

“ _Fuck, please— please—“_ he did, and she found that she loved the sound.

“If you’re such a filthy, needy little thing, you won’t need me to. You can get off just like this, pressed against my office door—“ she pressed, hard, through the fabric, and he bucked into her touch. “Rubbing through your trousers.”

“ _Yes, yes— oh fuck—“_ His stupid brown hair clung to his damp forehead, his horrible little mouth hung open as he panted: “ _Please, slap me— do anything you want to me—“_

Her free hand slapped him hard across the face and he moaned.

_“Shhhh, shhhhh—“_ she said, holding his jaw in her hand. “No one else has consented to hear the filthy noises you’re making. Just me. Only me.”

“Only you,” he looked into her eyes like a helpless deer, and she squeezed hard around his cock.

“Now rub yourself off in my hand if you’re such a little slut,” she demanded, and he whined quietly and thrust against her harder. She could feel the rushing blood build through the thin fabric, could feel his cock pulse as he came. Her hand slipped over his mouth, pressing his head against the door, grinning as he tried to stifle his desperate moans, rubbing him through it until he hissed from the overstimulation.

She turned away and walked to her desk, where the script was waiting. She picked it up, then sat on the edge of the desk, facing him, and held it out.

Jaskier looked— disheveled was not a strong enough word for how thoroughly wrecked he looked, just from a clothed hand job against a door.

“Here’s your script, you… there’s a mirror in the bathroom, you can sort yourself out before—“

_“Please_ ,” he breathed.

“What more could you possibly want?” she asked.

“I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“You are.”

Yen watched as Jaskier sank to his knees at the door. As he leaned forward and put his hands on the horrible industrial polyester carpet. Her breath hitched as he crawled toward her. When he reached her feet, he sat back on his heels and leaned forward, until he was just about to touch her legs.

“Please,” he repeated, his chin resting just above her thigh. “You just—. You didn’t have to get me off, after…”

“And yet I did.”

“Can I…? I’d like to return the favor,” he drawled, brushing his fingertips up her legs, testing. She let them open slightly, still covered by her knee-length skirt. “Of course if you don’t want to, I can be completely professional,” he added, pressing his lips behind her knee, noticing the shiver of pleasure it drew from her. He looked up at her, smirking.

“You’ve never been professional in your life.”

“No,” he smiled, pressing her skirt up an inch or two. “But do you want me to…?” he flicked his tongue out behind her knee, looking at her all the while. He was wretched.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, okay.”

She shuffled on the desk, pulling her skirt up over her hips, and found Jaskier parting her legs and settling himself rather familiarly between them. His fingers brushed up and rested on her hips lightly; his mouth quickly settled on the lace covering her pussy.

“Just let me get it off—“

“All in good time,” he murmured. Yennefer rested back on her hands, annoyed, as he licked at the fabric, then swept a finger beneath it and into her lightly, discovering just how wet she was. She felt the heat of a blush creep across her cheek.

For the first time in their acquaintance he said nothing, but she could _feel_ his smug smile against her. He pulled the lace to the side with his teeth, then slipped his tongue into her. She gasped softly and heard something between a chuckle and a groan.

“And here I thought this would finally shut you up,” she admonished, and felt his tongue softly flick over her clit with precision, his finger lazily pressing into her. Her back arched at the gentle pressure, just underneath a tickle— she felt tingly through her nipples and down to every part of him touching her. If he kept this up… it was maddening, dizzying. She canted her hips toward him and found his hands firmly, strongly press her back.

It wasn’t rough— she liked, expected things to be a little rough. But this was dominant, not teasing. It wasn’t something she’d felt with Geralt (who nonetheless very enthusiastic at this) and had never sought out or found in a lover. It scratched at the softly building arousal more, and she let it build and build, waiting to see how long it could last, until she felt it shift again and—

Jaskier pulled her leg over his back and licked harder against her, then added a second finger fucking into her at the same slow, maddening pace. She grabbed his hair and tilted her hips against him again, and found he offered no resistance this time.

He was offering to let her take her pleasure from him, and take it she would.

She rode his face as he swirled his tongue against her, meeting her every move, letting her deepen it as she liked, letting her fuck herself on his fingers, letting her use him—

“Three,” she ordered, and he pulled them out, then slipped three fingers into her. She stifled a moan as he curled them inside. He sucked on her clit hard, giving her everything he could, and she was close, suddenly so close now, her hips and his fingers thrusting harder—

She clutched his stupid hair in her hands as she came through clenched teeth. His tongue didn’t flag, but held strong against her, pressing her through the waves of pleasure again and again and again— he suddenly let up and stood, one hand still inside her, the other pulling open her button-down shirt and pushing away her bra cup to find her nipple—

He bit down hard as his other fingers fucked into her again, hard and unrelenting, sending her over the edge and quickly into a second orgasm that left her gasping and breathless. He didn’t let go this time, not until she was steadying, then released her breast and casually slipped his fingers into his mouth to clean them, turning away as he did so.

Yen climbed out of the haze of it, caught her breath, scooped her exposed breast back into her bra, and stood, letting her skirt slide back into place. The wet spot on Jaskier’s trousers was even more pronounced, and his face was still wet with her slick, his hair stuck up at ridiculous angles from her grasp.

And he was smiling like a buffoon. And he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“You can go now,” she told him, sounding steadier than she was.

“Oh, okay. I’ll ah— I’ll just grab the script—“

“I have to make some changes.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He looked like he might try to kiss her. She walked to the door to open it.

“Next time we’ll have to do this somewhere we won’t be heard,” he said as he walked—practically bounced— to the door.

“We’re never doing this again,” she said with a smile, and closed the door behind him.


End file.
